


missed you

by RosieClark



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieClark/pseuds/RosieClark
Summary: She crosses her arms over her chest, the habit sending a pang of familiarity through his heart. “You still worry about me.”He doesn't bother lying. “Always.”
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	missed you

Adrien wakes with a start, heart thundering in his chest. The room around him is still dim, the predawn light just beginning to filter in through his blinds. At first, he assumes that it must have been an already forgotten dream that woke him, but a buzzing comes from across the room. His phone vibrates angrily, once, twice, on top of his glass top desk. Grumbling to himself, he rolls out of bed and stalks over to silence the offending piece of technology.

Before he gets the chance to turn it off, he skims through the notifications lighting up the screen. His breath catches in his throat as his eyes find her name.

**Missed Call: Marinette - 5:15 AM**

It's been weeks since he's last seen her, let alone spoken to her. He knows she must have been at Nino and Alyas party last night; he had concocted an excuse to miss it specifically because Marinette would be there. He debates with himself momentarily, before ignoring all reason and logic and hitting the _Call Back_ button.

The line rings, once, twice, seven times, cutting to her voicemail message. Despite knowing better, he allows himself the luxury of listening to her voice. Maybe he likes the pain. “Hey, you've reached Marinette! I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you!” Her message ends with a little laugh. He ends the call before her voicemail can begin recording.

Her voice is bright and cheerful. It makes Adriens stomach churn with regret. He had gotten better, these last few weeks, at schooling his emotions into nothing. Now, with her voice fresh in his ears, he is powerless to stop the painful squeeze in his chest. Turns out, it is a lot harder than he thought to make himself fall out of love.

His fingers twitch over the phone as he considers his options. Maybe she called accidentally; it was probably just a butt dial. Unless… What if she was in trouble? What if she needs him? The uncertainty is enough to drive him into action. He quickly pulls on a pair of sweats and a shirt, stuffing his feet into the closest pair of sneakers. In his head, he repeats to himself that he’ll just drive over to check on her, in case something is wrong.

On his way out the door, a set of keys hanging from a hook grabs his attention. They are the spare set Marientte had given him, months ago. She hadn’t asked for them back when they'd broken up, so he hadn’t bothered returning them, knowing full well it makes him a loser unable to move on. For once he's grateful for his decision to cling to the past, worry gnawing at his heart.

As Adrien pulls up to her apartment, he notes that her car is parked neatly in its designated spot. Anticipation and anxiety have him jogging up the short flight of stairs to her second-story apartment, wrapping his knuckles against the door. Nothing but silence follows. He tries again, knocking a bit louder. More silence. He is too agitated to hesitate as he slips his spare key into the lock, spinning the deadbolt. It slides neatly back. If the door is locked, she either already came home or never came home.

He pushes into the apartment and a heinous thought suddenly clangs through him. What if a man is here? What if the missed call was really just a mistake and now he’s going to walk in on the love of his life in bed with another man? Nausea threatens, his throat growing tight.

“Marinette?” he calls, not bothering to be quiet. Whether she’s alone, or not, he doesn’t want to terrify her. Or worse, surprise her during an… intimate… moment.

Glancing around, he notes that the apartment is a disaster. A pile of shoes is shoved into the doorway of a half-closed closet. The dining table is littered with unopened mail. The couch looks like it is currently serving as a laundry hamper. A brief look into the kitchen reveals a sink full of dirty cups, but no plates.

Has she been eating at all? Adrien wonders to himself. A sick part of him hopes that she's been as miserable as he has been since their break-up, but he quickly pushes that thought down.

“Marinette?” he tries again and, this time, there is a sound from the direction of her bathroom.

The door is ajar, so he pushes in without knocking. The scene he finds nearly stops his heart.

Marinette is slumped against the wall, her body curled in a fetal position so her head can rest on the edge of her bathtub. Her hair is pulled back into a messy knot at the base of her neck and the make-up smudged around her eyes gives her a ghostly appearance. The scrap of a dress she is wearing looks damp, like she’s either sweat through it or she showered in it.

“Jesus, Marinette.” At the sound of his voice, her head turns and she’s so pale , with the exception of two feverish spots of color high on her cheeks. Crouching down, Adrien does his best to shift her gently into a sitting position. She lets out a quiet moan as he presses his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up."

“Adrien? You came?” Her voice is barely a croaking, painful sounding rasp. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know who else to call... ”

He shushes her as gently as he can, tucking a wild piece of dark hair behind her ear. “You can always call me. Always.” His fingers go to her neck, seeking out her pulse. It pushes back against them, strong enough, but far too quick for someone laying on the floor. “We can talk later.” Marinette makes a groan of agreement, her body going limp on the floor again. Rummaging through her cabinets, he finds a washcloth. He passes it beneath icy tap water before wringing it out and turning to press it to Marinette’s neck. She moans again, but this time in relief. “Can I carry you to your bed?”

Her head shakes once in disagreement. “Too… nauseous.”

“Ok, ok. I think you’re sick, Marinette. Really sick.” Another sound of agreement, but she makes no attempt to move from her spot on the floor. “I’m going to get you some water and make a call.”

Before he leaves, he rolls up a towel and moves to where she’s curled on the floor. “Lift your head.” She compiles, her eyes blinking open dazedly. He tucks the towel beneath her so she can use it as a pillow. Her blue eyes stay trained on his face and he can’t help but reach out and gently rub the backs of his fingers down her cheeks.

Her eyes flutter closed again as she murmurs, “Missed you.”

  
  
  
  
  


Adrien calls Chloe, the only person he knows that has any sort of medical training. She agrees to come to Marinettes to make sure she doesn’t need more urgent medical attention.

While he waits for Chlo's arrival, he brings a large glass of water to Marinette, who remains slumped over in the bathroom like a ragdoll. He manages to get her into a sitting position, where she greedily gulps down the water, leaning the majority of her weight against him.

When she keeps down the fluids, he makes the executive decision to move her to her bedroom, hoisting her into his arms. She doesn’t protest once, further proof to him that she must be quite ill. Her body is wracked by shivers as he peels the damp dress off of her, ignoring modesty in favor of her current needs. There isn't an inch of skin he hasn't seen before, hasn't worshiped before. He finds a sweatshirt (one of his) in her closet and a pair of loose pants.

“Arms up, Marinette.” She raises them on command, swaying a bit from her seated position on her bed. The sweatshirt drowns her, but there’s a moment after he’s pulled her head through that a drowsy smile plays out on her face. “You’re a little thief, you know that?” he jokingly asks.

“Mhmmm,” she hums.

Crouching in front of her, he commands, “Stand.” She does, bracing her hands on his shoulders, stepping one foot into the sweats, then the other. In one motion Adrien pulls them up her hips.

Once she’s fully dressed, he tucks her beneath the comforter, then settles in beside her to wait for Chloe. He does his best to ignore the way his chest constricts when she presses her face against his abdomen and drifts off back to sleep, her forehead hot through his shirt.

  
  
  
  
  


Thirty minutes later, Marinette is in Adriens lap like a child, while he lists her symptoms to Chole over her head. Chole drops her bag just inside the door, snapping on rubber gloves and moving to where the pair of them are seated on the bed.

Marinette curls into him, her face pressing into the crook of his neck. She makes a quiet keening noise as she tries to get as far from Chloe's hands as she can. Holding her like this, he can feel the way her ribs are more pronounced beneath the fabric of the sweatshirt, his finger slotting easily into the divots between them.

There is a painful squeeze in his chest, something bordering between grief and desperation swirling inside him. He still wants to be mad. His anger is more than justified. He wants to yell at her and slam doors and hurt her the way she hurt him. Instead, he grips her tighter, pulling her more securely into his lap.

“I’ve got you Mari. It’s ok. It’s just Chloe.”

Chloe watches the whole exchange, quirking an eyebrow up, a pointedly silent question in her eyes. When Adrien makes no acknowledgement of it, Chloe rolls her eyes and reaches for Marinette. “Come on, hun, let me just check your lymph nodes,” she murmurs, in a soothing voice, like she's speaking to a frightened animal.

“I assume she was drunk last night, but it seems like she’s gotten a virus or food poisoning or something, too,” Adrien offers. He adjusts Marinette so Chloe can gently press her fingers into the soft flesh of her throat, feeling beneath the surface. Marinette whimpers, but allows it.

When Chloe leans back, Adrien looks at her expectantly.

“Her lymph nodes feel fine, so I’d err on the side of food poisoning. She’s got a fever and she’s small, so she’ll dehydrate easily. Keeping her fluids up and something to keep the fever at bay are going to be the best course of action for now.” A pause in his words brings a dark look to Adriens eyes, daring his friend to say what she's thinking. “Why are you here, Adrien? She’s not your responsibility anymore.”

He bares his teeth at Chloe, almost growling. “She called me.” He feels Marinette tense slightly in his arms and he tightens his arms around her in response. “She needed me.”

Chloe raises his hands, both defensive and apologetic. “INo need to attack me, I'm just trying to look out for you. Adrien I saw you after you guys split, I held you as you cried. I'm not sure if you should be her knight in shining armor. At least not yet."

"And if I didn't come? I never found her lying on the floor of the bathroom who would? Who Chlo? Not you, not Alya, not Nino. Because she called _me_."

“I’m just trying to protect you-”

“Get out.” Adrien's voice is deadly calm. “Leave the medicine and get the fuck out, Chlo.”

The blond stills, then turns to her bag, digging through and pulling out a few small pill packs, setting them on the dresser. “If her fever worsens, she’ll need to go in. If her vomiting continues, she’ll need to go in. She doesn’t have enough weight on her to survive too much more of this.” Her voice is clinical and he turns, holding out two small pink pills in her fingers. “Marinette, you need to take these. Open up.”

As Marinette chokes down the pills, Chloe looks like she's contemplating pressing Adrien further. However, she must think better of it because she gives her friend a nod, grabs his bag, and backs out of the room. "Because I know you're going through some shit right now I'm letting you off the hook. Just..." she pauses, searching for the right words to say. "Guard your heart Adrien." Then she's gone. There’s some shuffling in the kitchen before the external door opens and closes.

  
  
  


For a long while, Marinette sleeps. As daylight breaks outside and fills the apartment with light, Adrien busies himself with cleaning and tidying. The apartment is familiar enough to him, he knows where most things belong. Periodically, he steps into the bedroom to feel her forehead for a climbing fever, leaving a large Tupperware bowl beside her in case she needs to vomit again.

One hour passes in peace, then two. At the start of the third, Marinettes forehead is no longer burning beneath his palm and he feels at ease enough to go to the washroom.

Making his way out of the bedroom, he takes a quick pee break, then grabs himself a glass of water.

Noises in the bedroom notify him that she's awake.

He should just leave. The two of them already had their scratching, screaming, crying breakup. They didn’t need a second. Adrien honestly didn’t know if either of them would survive it. Leaning back against the counter, he stares at her ceiling fan. He doesn’t blink, letting his vision swim out of focus.

He looks up when Marinette emerges from her room, still in his shirt, hair thrown into a messy bun on top of her head. She's still pale, but at least she's on her feet.

For a few beats, they stare at each other in silence. Marinette breaks the silence.

“Hey.”

It's so guarded, so not _them_. He tries for a smile.

“Hi.”

“What time is it?”

He shrugs in response. “Daytime.”

She makes a huffing sound that could be a laugh. He lets himself believe it was.

He wants to smile, he does, but he can’t. Not with the sudden weight of their shared history bearing down on him, now that Marinette is out of immediate danger. Not wanting to stay in silence, he says the thing that’s been on his mind since he saw the state of her kitchen, felt her ribs through her shirt. “You’ve lost weight.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, the habit sending a pang of familiarity through his heart. “You still worry about me.”

He doesn't bother lying. “Always.”

She looks away and he clears his throat.

“How do you feel?”

Instead of answering, she makes herself some tea. Adrien waits patiently as the water boils. She sighs. “Alive.” A pause, then, “What I said… when we…”

“Mari. Please. Don’t.” He can’t. His shriveled soul is already in eviscerated shreds.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.”

Suddenly, Adrien is furious. The anger plows into him like a truck, so forceful he shoots to his feet, pacing away from the bed. All the words he’s kept pent up since they broke up come pouring out of him.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Weeks of radio silence and you suddenly want to apologize? You don’t get to tell me that you didn’t mean it, because you and I both know you fucking meant it. Just like I meant what I said. We both said things, we both got hurt."

Blue eyes, full of sorrow stare up at him. "Adrien--"

But he's not finished.

"This past month has been hell for me Mari," the nickname rolls off his tongue. "And despite it all, despite the voices in my head screaming at me to shut up, I can't."

"Why?" It's barely a whisper.

"Because I love you. I'm still in love with you. You've got me wrapped around your finger like a puppet and I'm helpless to do anything but love you."

He hears her set her mug down on the table and move closer, but he doesn’t meet her gaze, afraid of what he’ll find there.

“You don't mean that.”

He looks up. "Yes I do." And he does, with all his heart.

Slender hands grab his, and he doesn't dare move. "I still love you too."

His breath catches as he takes in her fine features, the way she's biting her lip. The tears threatening to spill.

“Can you say it again?” Adrien whispers, not wanting to believe its true.

The smallest smile curves her lips. “I love you, Adrien.”

He has to shut his eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath into his lungs. When he opens his eyes again, she’s still watching him, but his eyes zero in on her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

“Can I kiss you?” They'd have to take it slow, work out some things before jumping back into it but right now all he can think about is her.

A smirk. “Well since you asked so nicely I suppos-”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish that thought as he sweeps in and covers her mouth with his own. It starts slow, soft brushes as he relearns the shape of her mouth beneath him. He tangles the fingers of his free hand through her hair, effectively tying them together.

When her tongue makes an exploratory sweep across his lower lips, Adrien lets the leash on his wanting slip, looming over her frame to settle half on top of her. He is rewarded with a breathy gasp that sounds like his name.

Using all his self control, Adrien pulls away, an adorable pout forming on Mari's lips. "You," he pants, booping her nose lightly, "need rest."

She opens her mouth to protest but he's already scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom.

Once she’s cocooned comfortably, Adrien moves in beside her, tucking his long frame around her body, her head beneath his chin. She tilts her head to look up at him, and he asks, “Yes, Mari?”

Against his chest, her voice is muffled. “Can you say it again?”

His throat constricts so sharply he has to bury his face in her hair for a moment and collect himself. When he answers, his voice is still rough with emotion. “I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I love you so freaking much.”

She snuggles closer. "You know we need to talk about all this later?"

He nods. "I know."

The tension in her body melts away. “I missed this.”

As she drifts off, Adrien hears the unspoken words.

_I missed you._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are always welcome and appreciated! 
> 
> (and yes im awear chloes name is spelt with an accent but its 3am and my brain hurts)


End file.
